


have me i'm all yours

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Claiming Bites, Desperation, False Accusations, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Laughter During Sex, Lowercase, M/M, Not Beta Read, Possessive Behavior, Possibly Unrequited Love, Power Bottom, Riding, Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29159982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: a half-endermen is just being friendly, but our hero thinks there's ulterior motives. he doesn't appreciate them like he does, he can't, he doesn't get it, he doesn't deserve them, and more importantly — tommy is NOT jealous.as requested, jeaIousinnit and powerbottom tvbbo for the win—!! this follows the events of my last fic where there is a time skip two to three years with peace and no fighting. for now >:]
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo/TommyInnit
Comments: 18
Kudos: 261
Collections: Anonymous





	have me i'm all yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keiikis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiikis/gifts).



they're beautiful today, as they are any other day, but with that flush of cold red stinging their cheeks, that glimmer of curiosity that _will_ be sated, tubbo was the stillness in the air before a storm collided with the earth. they became this force of nature even tommy himself struggled to handle, to fit in his palms and contain as they trudged through thick snow, their coats clung tight and hands tucked close to their bodies, stuffed into thick gloves that tubbo had made. tommy still hadn't thanked them for his pair.

they were too unstoppable of a force, too immovable of an object. tommy couldn't so much as lay his hands on them without thinking they couldn't possibly be real and with him in this moment. they felt unreachable. even as they rattled off about theories and ideas, plans and plots, it's like they were too far away.

the source of their unbridled passion?  
someone that wasn't him, that was for sure. instead it's a tall, half-enderman purposefully taking half steps as to not hinder tubbo's ability to keep up but never once mentioning it — as if he were humble or kind for pitying them like this.

now, tommy wasn't jealous. he could _never_ be the jealous type, but the way tubbo's hand brushed ranboo's that one time or the way they bumped shoulders or how the half-enderman ruffled their hair — it wasn't natural. he couldn't be the only one gagging at the sight, surely tubbo could see how strange this all was. he didn't like it.

how could tommy enjoy this when _he_ was the only one allowed to clasp their hand in his own, roughly colliding their shoulders until they began wrestling about in the snow, or to card his long fingers through those wild locks? he was the only one who did that. he was the only one who could render them speechless with his lips and tongue, he could spin them around right now and stake his claim on their mouth until they're whimpering, show ranboo just—

"how is the stronghold? have you explored it?" tubbo's prompt has tommy's eyes lifting, his train of thought screeching off the rails and disappearing instantaneously because had he lingered any longer, he would have to fight a hard-on for the rest of this trip. their voice raised an octave on the question and their eyes are rapt, keen on the looming enderman.

"only a little, not nearly enough. phil and techno have mapped it all out already, it's _huge_."

and ranboo grinned, baring those fangs that smoothed along his rough canvas of black and white, merging sharp teeth with skin against a deep green backdrop. the half-enderman had to duck his neck down to speak to tubbo as they all trudged through thick, jagged snow and patches of ice that scraped against ankles and burned their skin. tommy was quiet still, wordlessly analyzing the two as they spoke, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he muttered his complaint that passed onto deaf ears.

"you know, if you want i could show you around the stronghold! i can go get the map and we can figure out a path to one of the ancient libraries." the half-enderman points out matter-of-factly, those thin, cat-like eyes blowing wider with visible excitement when tubbo perks up, a closed-mouth giggle lifting weightlessly in the air as they nodded. tommy let out an audible noise of disgust.

"well _i_ think y—"

"would you really? ranboo i would be _honored_ ," tubbo stresses in awe, cutting off tommy's grating voice without a second though, that light in their eyes screamed raw appreciation. that was a look tommy had been honored to be given all those years ago. the one where tubbo's eyes search for some kind of trick, a joke that they didn't catch and never found one. they would lean into you as if you were some gift sent from the gods above, latch on and never let go.

but now ranboo had seen it.  
he had been given such a lovely gift of that sheer, unadulterated trust from them and all he did was continue strolling forward, nodding animatedly and continuing their conversation as if tubbo's walls hadn't just crumbled in front of their very eyes. he didn't appreciate tubbo like tommy did. he couldn't.

they both chattered happily about the potential of coming face the face with that structure, weighing the pros and cons as tommy shuddered from the cold, hands stuffed into the pouch of his hoodie. by the time they reached ranboo's place, drifting by techno who regarded them with narrowed eyes and sheer boredom, they trudged up the stairs and tommy lingered by the door with a scowl.

tubbo drifted in the house effortlessly as if it were their own, and tommy found himself face to face with ranboo. the half-enderman gazed down at him, head cocking as if he were some curious puppy and tommy has never wanted to throw someone down a set of stairs more. he heard tubbo happily flop against a chair in there, calling out softly with a: "ranboo?"

"you can come in, tommy," ranboo murmurs instead, nervously gritting his odd set of sharp, predatory teeth as the blonde looked him directly in his eyes, the split colors flickering to the floor, avoiding his gaze as the half-enderman fidgeted under his stare. it felt like a silent victory to tommy, watching ranboo struggle to meet his gaze, so the blonde shrugged and muttered: "i'll stay out here. not a big fan of maps an' shit. 'sides, i wanna catch up with the blade."

ranboo nodded hesitantly, stepping back to close the door gently in front of tommy. he whirled on his heels and stormed toward the pigman, marching across the thick snow shovelled out of the way to connect their small community. while inside, tubbo has their elbows resting on the edge of a table, kicking their feet as ranboo brewed the two some tea.

"i reckon we could make a stop by some of those massive rooms, i don't doubt tommy would find his fun there. are there torches?" tubbo chirps, thumbing the edge of the map curiously, the old paper crinkling under their fingertips.

"should be. if not, i could bring some oil and a couple sticks and cloth. do you have flint and steel?" ranboo hummed lowly as he stirred the two cups, steam carrying through the air and an aroma of mint picked up under their nose.

tubbo laughed absently, nodding, " _always_. what do you take me for, ranboo?"

ranboo echoed with his own laugh as he turned around, placing their cup in front of them, "just checking, just checking. you're always prepared, i can give you that."

too long. they spent too long chatting, drifting off into the odds and ends of conversation, before the hours had passed and the clock above ranboo's door ticked quietly through the air as both stared at the wild routes of the map. tubbo took the final sip of their now cold tea, placing down the mug on the corner of the map to hold it down as it curled.

they found a massive hallway, grinning from ear to ear as ranboo mentioned there being disarmed traps there. pistons that once would pierce your chest full of spikes would now trigger and just knock you off your feet, collapsing floors that jam before they can fully open into the pit below, it was like toying with death — and they knew exactly who would have a blast there.

"tommy?" they called as they leaned off the table, not tearing their eyes from the map. there was no response, just the sound of an axe splitting through wood and the rattle of each piece being tossed upon a pile. they falter, glancing toward the front door as they withdrawal their palms from flattening the map, wring their hands.

" _tommy_?" they yell again, nerves spiking.  
tommy was supposed to be just outside, he would always wait right there for tubbo, and despite his habit to drift, there was surely no way he had slipped out of earshot or was cutting _wood_ of all things. he never cut wood.

"he went home!" calls a monotoned voice, the scowl audible in the pigman's tone and maybe at one point tubbo would have shuddered at the sound of technoblade's voice, but now they are scurrying to the door and flinging it open. there wasn't a flash of blonde hair bounding their way, baring perfected teeth now stripped of braces — no encroaching hands in their hair, on their back, in their own hand, it was just silent.

"he went home?" tubbo whispered into the chilling air nipping at the back of their throat with every inhale, an entirely scrambled look of dismay crossing their features as they tried to parse this information. as if, without tommy there, they were lost and their path home was unclear.

"tomorrow then?" ranboo quietly suggested after seeing the tracks circle back toward snowchester, both under the scrutinizing eye of technoblade who had peeled off his robes to show muscles pushing against his undershirt, slamming an axe down the centre of a log. it splintered in two, shards of bark scattered across the snow slicked ground, the pigman grunting.

"tomorrow." tubbo echoed their agreement, brows knitting. they worried the inside of their lip with their teeth until they tasted blood, swallowing thickly.

"it's getting late, are you sure you want to leave?" ranboo pointed out, both watching the sun sink lower and lower on the horizon. the snow-scape was glowing orange from low rays, pink and red casting across the sky.

"i would love to stay but — i think i need to check on him. he was acting all off."

ranboo nods, neck craned forward as he reaches a long arm out, grasping the strap to his leather sheath, the sword being slung over the half-enderman's shoulder as he weighed it carefully in his palm.

"i'll walk you to the border of snowchester."

"would you? thank you, ranboo," tubbo absentmindedly hummed, meeting technoblade's eyes. the anarchist unashamedly gave them a non-committal once over, before tipping his chin toward where tommy had slunk off to, a snort escaping his snout. they swallow thickly, nodding to him as the two set back off.

the return home is quiet. what began as a boisterous adventure full of energy turned to tubbo's steps shifting into quick, rapid pacing, their fists balled at their side. hurt and confusion building up — and ranboo, all too familiar with tubbo's silver tongue and ability to spit scathing comments, did not dare to impede on the cogs turning in their brain. they both maintain gentle conversation, obligatory in the way their pleasantries as exchanged, but nothing comes of it.

they exchange curt goodbyes once the glow of their house comes into view and tubbo is hurrying to the front door, jaw clenched. only one light was on inside, dim and flickering as a figure passed in front of it. their steps were loud as they hurried up the spruce planks, the frame creaking as they push the door open with a huff.

"tommy." tubbo demands his attention, shaking their head to free their tawny locks of snow clinging to the dark strands. the blonde is stood beside the bed, hair barely clinging to moisture. he had taken enough time to bathe — had they been gone that long? tommy doesn't offer his audience, and instead grabs the back of his hoodie, dragging it off his frame in one swift tug, lifting his shirt to expose a long, lean midriff.

"tommy look at me," tubbo urges and tommy can hear the frown in their voice and slowly casts a glance over his shoulder before throwing the hoodie onto a perfectly made bed.

"what?" he curtly mutters, pulling off his shirt and abandoning it on the floor. tubbo is silenced, teeth clacking together as they see a long scar travelling across his back, from his right hip to his left shoulder blade. it was ugly, ragged, didn't fit on his pale skin. they knew the feel of it, but hadn't seen it in this golden light before. he grasps the flannel he had set out, shrugging it on and slowly, meticulously, buttoned it up as they watched quietly, stunned into silence.

"wh—? what happened today? why did you leave?" tubbo murmurs after a moment of pause, brows knit. there was a little bit of everything tainting their voice, from concern to hurt, they made up the human equivalent of the word "lost". they had no idea, not a clue what had gone wrong and was clawing for an answer, desperate to make this better.

"well _sorry_ i didn't wanna go in some musty ass caves, and sniff up a bunch of fuckin' mold — or whatever grows down there," he snorts, eyes rolling to the side as he gives a venomous scoff.

"w—we ... we didn't finish up until nearly sunset. besides, we could have made masks, or even gotten our hands on respirators. philza has a couple at his place."

tommy's eyes flare and they feel their lungs quickly fill with air as he clenches and unclenches his fist, "finish up, huh? what? what did he finish doing?"

"what do you—"

"doing what, tubbo? huh? i just don't fucking like ranboo or his stupid empire shit, sue me," tommy snarls sharply.

"but — why? he's great company and plenty _nice_ , you could learn a thing or two from him!" their response was scalding. tommy winced, scowling as he whipped around finally to face them and they find themselves taking a half step back, space that tommy closes easily with one long stride.

"i don't need to learn shit from a lanky asshole like him, he's not worth your fucking time, tubbo, you should—"

"what? can i not make friends now?" they scoff, choking on a baffled laugh, a look of offense crossing their features before they suddenly feel crowded, tommy is looming above them, too close and yet not close enough.

" _not_ when he's looking at you like you're dinner and he's fucking _starving_ ," tommy finally bites back, a vicious snarl, all heat and frustration tipping over the edge. the possessiveness he felt bled into his words was thick on his tongue, splotchy and dangerous — boiling over in a covetous display of greed. tubbo was never his, they were too free and unreigned to belong to anyone, and yet tommy held on. god, did he want them all to himself.

silence weighs heavily in the air, their breaths mingling among the chilly air.

"are you ... jealous?" tubbo whispers, eyeing him, deep blue eyes flickering from tommy's eyes to his lips, down to his heaving chest and back up, taking in his disheveled appearance. just that question alone had cracked a carefully built front of power and confidence.

" _no_." tommy snarls, but it's already there. there’s something tugging at his gut to be rash. like this, they can cling and grab and rut, this close — nearly pressed chest to chest. all they had to do is finish the evening without that, say goodnight and curl to one another and silently grapple in the dark hoping to keep one another warm, and it’s done. signing off on a turbulent chapter of their lives when this possessive streak was strung. punch it out and bin the card.

but tommy finds instead, tubbo's lips are warm on his.

in fact, they're radiating heat, a remnant of the exertive travel back to snowchester that toed into the night, their side is burning up under tommy's palm. it happened simultaneously, tubbo leaning forward and the blonde reaching out and neither of them would confess nor deny to moving first. they melt where they’re touching, just a little, so they lick it up before it can spill and quietly, wordless retreat back when tubbo's breath catches in their throat, examining each other.

the subtle streams of silver light filtering through the windows has tubbo looking like they're from a film, too sharp for how soft their colours are – porcelain skin, slight freckles blending under flushed cheeks, deep, glowing eyes catching on moonlight. they haven't dropped their bag which feels like progress, because they’re not scrambling, struggling, pushing or pulling, there's no urgency here. tubbo's hand hardly shake when they thumb the straps still on their shoulders, searching tommy for an answer.

they could taste it on his tongue, the hints of berries he often would only eat when sulking or when he was too bored to do anything but chew on something and lay upside down on the couch. they could imagine him, waiting for them to return, slumped into the large piece of furniture, wrapped into thick blankets as he scowled at the empty fireplace. they figured he was too caught up in himself to stoke the flames. it tempts them closer, and this time when they kiss, it lasts a while. no sloppy passes of saliva, no power struggle, no urgency. it is what it is: a kiss, lazy making out, not snogging against the bed, switching back and forth until tubbo was pressed into the mattress and was pleading for something more. both take it at face value, instead.

tubbo looks so fucking good when they peel away, and it has nothing to do with their physical attractiveness. they're more vibrant. like they got their answer, saw what they needed to see from tommy. he doesn’t dare drop his gaze, standing up straight as his hand caresses their cheek, thumb smoothing under their eye.

"how is the stronghold?"

"it's uhm ... it's curious — but hardly worth the risk right now, lots of creepers and even more zombies. as much as i want to go, i'll wait until tomorrow to tag along."

he can picture it; personified anxiety in the body of his best friend who tucks their hands behind their back, probably lacing their now trembling fingers. his voice comes as a whisper, “are you nervous?”

tubbo pinches their brows, eyes averting. “not particularly? i’m just in the habit of re-trying things until i like them now.”

“and your verdict?”

“could be worse. could be _much_ worse.”

They’re not talking about adventure or humble offers of a warm bed in the empire anymore. or maybe they are, and tommy is just used to tubbo not stating what they actually think and therefore assumes an entirely different topic. the result is the same either way – tubbo is still close, brushing their knee against tommy's and watching him carefully, the only physical connection between the two up until they quietly slip past tommy.

crouching at the fireplace, tossing a log or two in there as they struck flint on steel. they know when tommy drifted up behind them, hears the creak of his weight on the floor boards, feels fingers pass through their hair as they lean back from the flame and rise to their feet. fingers brush theirs, coaxing, and they find themselves perched in tommy's lap, the blonde seated on the edge of the coffee table.

it’s still tender. a bit more confident for sure, they have nothing to prove and all the time in the world. this night is stolen, feels vivid and surreal simultaneously, a newfound energy fueling the fire. tubbo's free hand is in tommy's hair and a faint longing burns slow between their legs. they’re not hard but they could be, if tubbo grinded against his crotch or if tommy whispered praise into the hollow of their neck or if either of them let out a helpless moan to complement their heavy breaths.

they don’t.

“you don’t look like you taste,” tommy says as tubbo leans back, licking their top lip, and earns a small laugh for the remark. in some moments, they taste like the iron of blood — a direct outcome from their terrible habit of chewing on the inside of their lip, spilling cardinal wine into each heated kiss. but tommy tasted like sour berries and lemon grass, loamy in the way that they were freshly picked and not cleaned in a warm bowl of water. right off the bush.

“you do,” tubbo shoots back and it’s very clearly meant to offend. tommy scoffs, a hand gripping onto their hip, drifting to simply rest his hands on the curve of their ass. he thumbs their back pocket, leaning forward to bury his face into their throat. he takes in a deep breath, rumbling a low noise from within his chest.

"did he touch you?"

"seriously, tommy," they sigh, trying to lean back only to have arms tighten around their waist, lips mouthing at their collarbone as they gasp.

"did he? you're not answering the question, tubbo, did he—"

"n-no, he's not — he's just being friendly!"

tommy ceases all conversation by meeting tubbo's neck with a rough bite that has them yelping, eyes visibly widening as he suckles harshly on the mark, tubbo's fingers digging into his shoulders. as they whimper in the aftermath, they're met with a fiery kiss, tommy licking at the back of their teeth and sucking on their tongue until they're panting and clinging to him, feet scrabbling for purchase and finding none. they swallow thickly, tongue heavy.

" 're you sure?" he rasps, their noses brushing as he leans back, their lips gliding against one another. tubbo strains for that again, silently pleading for another moment spent ravaging them. tubbo sucks in a short breath when he pulls away just enough to rob them of that satisfaction, but nods, which initiates another scalding kiss that has them whining into tommy's mouth by the end of it, a place on their bottom lip numb from a particularly possessive bite and their throat dry, face burning bright red.

"bed?" tommy murmurs between sloppy, hungry kisses that meet lips and skin alike. he's nonstop, panting against their throat.

their response is spoken through blown pupils and a bottom lip caught between their teeth. they nod, but those dark orbs speak volumes more than their jerky agreement. they're _desperate_ for this.

"bed," tubbo urges but gasps when tommy buries his face into their throat, mouthing at the bob of their neck, sucking on the tender skin. they repeat themself with a quick, breathless, " _bed_ —"

they’re slow but not hesitant, embrace tightly before resuming their kissing and stumble through the tight space of tubbo's cabin towards the large bed tucked in the corner where _tubbo_ presses him against the sheets, colliding both together, pushing their own body flush with tommy's. their physique is anything but imposing, yet their thighs are strong and effortlessly keep tommy in place – not that he’d want to escape, not now, not with tubbo's tongue lathing against his own and making him groan into their open mouth. the moment teeth come into play, tommy lets out a low growl and feels their fingers flexing into the material of his t-shirt.

he’s being seduced and it’s a full body experience: soft hair brushing over his cheek as tubbo suckles on the side of his neck, calloused, small palms splay across his chest, a clothed ass presses into his crotch, and they moan against his skin, hot and heavy, when he shakily grips onto their waist. tubbo's lips are relentless, capture every bit of naked skin and deliver quick licks here and there. already, tommy feels overtaken with them in this state, so much that he produces a strangled gasp when tubbo starts _nibbling_ on his neck.

“fuck,” he breathes and pants into tawny locks, gripping onto their waist as he grinds his hips up against their ass, giving a throaty moan, “ _tubbo_ —”

his neck is a weak spot of his and he lets tubbo capitalise on it freely, not daring to twist away. every onslaught of featherlight kisses and nips thrills his cock and causes it to strain against tubbo where they're seated – twitching in his pants.

tubbo exploits whatever they can because they've never been gifted this freedom with tommy before, they suck a bruise on pale skin and pushes their own erection into tommy's hip; they're eager without being desperate, enthrals with no urgency, undresses tommy without even _beginning_ to strip his clothes off.

warm digits delve below tommy's t-shirt. there’s exploration to it, to tubbo drifting scarred fingers across flexing muscles reacting to the featherlight contact, yet there's no novelty in their touches. they’re not doing this for the first time and therefore they don't need to familiarise themself with tommy's body anymore – but they find themself doing it anyways. a subconscious reaction to this freedom and power tommy had given them, pinning him beneath them because they figured — yes, they can do that. they have the strength, but until now they never had the _will_ to.

still. it’s unnecessary, these touches. tubbo knows what these scars feel like, knows what the skin will look like even, be familiar with every bruise and scratch even if there are some new ones — it's a show of freedom. their control over tommy in this moment swelling as the blonde sucks in a sharp breath as their thumb brushes a hardened bud.

then, as if they sensed it, tubbo yanks him back into the present with one fluid motion: they slide down tommy's body, licks over the fluttering muscles of his abdomen, dips their tongue against the protruding curve of his v-line, hands trailing behind and coming to a halt on tommy's thighs. a determined, eager expression is prominent on their soft face, rendering their visage to be more in control than they've ever been. the sight alone could raise the dead.

they're skilled with their mouth and they know it. tommy understands their rapt expression: for tubbo, witnessing the anticipation as well as the pleasure is worth postponing their own satisfaction. and god, are they playing it up. they fix tommy with a paralyzing stare full of mirth and heat and starts opening his belt with their fucking _mouth_. this isn’t their first time pulling this curious trick, they had to do it on one previous occasion which went a lot less smooth than this due to a number of reasons, but today it’s downright sinful how sensual they make it look. they ensure tommy has his eyes locked on them as they pull down the zipper with their teeth.

cheeky. so very cheeky, they're inviting commentary, and though there’s a part of tommy that wants to ask them _curious to know where you got practise_ , instead he whispers: “fuckin' look at you. you're so pretty for me."

tubbo's eyebrows twitch up. they're listening, ears perked to his every word, despite being busy pulling tommy's jeans down.

“ _yeah_ ," he drawls, "you know what you’re doing. you know what you look like right now, kitten.”

it’s not a slip-up. just because that pet name had slipped out doesn’t mean he had slipped _up_ , though he hadn’t meant to use it – he didn’t make the decision not to use it consciously either, it just doesn’t seem to fit the mood so it’s a bit of a surprise to feel it roll over his tongue, and he’s wondering whether he regrets it or not when tubbo draws their attention back by mouthing at his clothed dick.

“i'm not a _kitten,_ ” they protest softly and actually looks like they want to hear his disagreement for just a moment, their throat working down a thick swallow.

“you’re about as adorable as one,” tommy counters matter-of-factly, stroking over tubbo's jaw.

he earns a giggle, a quick kiss to his hipbone and a quiet _"_ oh shut _up"_ , and then the brunette is back to being the hottest person tommy has ever had kneeling in front of him (not that anyone has ever kneeled in front of him _besides_ tubbo) by tugging at his boxers until tommy lifts his hips and they catch the cock that bounces out with their mouth.

and god save tommy because if anything, they're even _better_ now. he's not sure how, doesn't have the gull to question their confidence and capabilities, just groans low in his throat as they lap at his head.

tommy keeps muttering encouragement and realises rather quickly that tubbo rewards him for it: if he keeps talking, the brunette swallows him whole with a strangled moan, nearly gags themself with the shaft between their lips, pushes their nose into coarse hairs and sends up a fiery gaze, glazed over with the threat of tears because their mouth is stretched around him, surely bulging their throat. they suck on him like a young god and uses their tongue to undo him; together with the unadulterated, shameless, wet noises accompanying the determined head bobbing, they could have tommy emptying down their throat in less than a minute if they so chose.

however, as soon as tommy begins passing his fingers through their hair and groaning, they withdraw with a trembling gasp. a last lick to the glistening tip is all tommy gets, and then tubbo is at eye level again. in the warm light of tubbo's dim bedside lamp, they're stunning, almost glowing from the inside, too handsome, too pretty, too angelic to be real. they're a real catch. tommy considers himself lucky.

“uhm—" tubbo clears their throat, looking up through their lashes matted with the presence of tears, the aftermath of their mouth being put to use.

"hm? 'sup?" tommy rasps, meeting their gaze as he props himself up on his elbows. there they are, hovering over him, illuminated by silver light, fingers laced, ringing them nervously. tommy wants his hands all over them, fights the urge to do so in favor of letting them speak.

"can, uh — want you to fuck me,” sputters the brunette, never the best with these words. and all bets are off.

tommy is vibrating with how much he wants them, so the words are the signal he’s been waiting for. leaning up to snag their wrist, tommy grips onto them and tugs them so they collapse beside him against the sheets, a muffled yelp earning a chuckle from him. everything here becomes second nature, yanking and tugging on their clothes – why are either of them still dressed when tommy could have been inside them hours ago? he crawls atop them, crashes their lips together, swallows tubbo's moans and wastes no time in groping them wherever possible. their muscles are firm and lean, flexing under his fingers, their body radiating heat, and flawless, light hairs lining their limbs. tommy needs to refresh his haptic memory of their body, feeling along their chest and shoulders, lean and yet not skinny, lined with deep burn scars up their shoulder and chest. their thighs are where their muscles lie, thick and yet proportionate to their body, trembling and spreading as the plush skin is squeezed. and their ass, dear god their _ass._ tommy grips at their hips, drifting from there to their cheeks, kneading them as he explored to his heart's content even as they let out a whine. they smell so familiar, of the damp, crisp smell of snow capped mountains and old, decrepit libraries and fire places and something animalistic underneath that drives tommy wild.

tubbo _loves_ it. they can’t stop smiling, drags tommy back in for more sloppy kisses several times and writhes, arches, reaching for any point of contact.

where tommy has been seduced by tubbo, all the blonde does is ravish. he’s rock hard and aching, more than ready to sink into the beautiful person beneath him, and therefore has no time for embellishment. both shirts drop to the floor next to his own, then the jeans go, and soon he’s facing nothing but pale, pristine skin. endless, meeting jagged edges of burn scars that gush up their chest to their shoulder, lining their neck. any other scars are almost too light to show and the only discolourations are birth marks that freckle their skin generously. tubbo is perfect from head to toe and for once, tommy wants nothing other than marvel at them.

so he does. he admires the sight, thumbing their hip carefully as they flush under the scrutinizing gaze full of heat and want. tommy stared for too long when he often found his satisfaction in take, push, and pull. he always had a momentum to him, never stopping or lingering too long. but here he was, licking his bottom lip as he tightened his grip on their waist and let out a deep breath that reverberated into a growl when they arched, begging for _anything_ other than being stared at, too embarrassed to be admired the way they deserve. giving a quick kiss to their collarbone, he leans over to the nightstand and digs across it before finding a warm, viscous bottle, weighing the container curiously. tubbo visibly flushes at the sight of it, nodding.

the first generous amount of oil goes on tubbo's cock, laying desperate and leaking on their belly, the skin around it bare and smooth. it’s pretty, even prettier in tommy's fist and shimmering with moisture, even prettier than that when it twitches in his grip and is accompanied with a sharp whine. he doesn’t have long to appreciate the sight before tubbo demands more with gasped "kiss me"s, pulling him close with a mewl, causing their dick to brush against tommy's own, and the contact is electrifying. keeping up with how tubbo's noises slowly unravel him is a challenge tommy gladly tackles by tightening his fingers around the hot flesh and massaging it the way he knows drives tubbo insane. the result is gratifying, perfect and heady as they moan like their lungs have been robbed of air. both of them are panting into each other’s mouths now, nearly biting down on tongues, basically drooling with how wet and animalistic it is. careless, sloppy, mind-numbingly erotic.

“let me finger you,” tommy suggests, or maybe pleads, and his tongue feels heavier than normal. they pant, wiping their mouth with the back of their hand.

“you really don't need to d-do that."

“bullshit. don’t be stupid, you love this shit anyway. let me finger you.”

“ _no_ , i can take it, tommy — you could shove it all in me right now and-ah-I'd be plenty happy.” they wager as if they didn't just utter the hottest thing that has ever came out of their mouth, eyes hooded and glazed over with want.

_jesus_. tommy needs a moment to blink at the pretty, pale collarbone he’d been nibbling at to parse the words he just heard. It’s just as well that he stopped moving or otherwise he might’ve creamed himself right then and there. “fuck. don’t say that.”

“come _on_. i want you inside me.” tubbo is serious now; no dirty talk for its own sake anymore. It’s perfectly possible they have been serious this whole time, he doesn't know.

“if i did that, i'd fill you up in a heartbeat. bad idea.” despite tommy's insistent tone of voice, tubbo's raised eyebrow implies they disagree with that assessment. when did they become so insatiable? when did their libido outdo tommy's? “counterproposal: i finger you until you can hardly stand, and _then_ i fuck you.”

this time, tubbo needs a second to compose themself, flushing at the grit to Tommy's voice. “counter-counterproposal: that, but i ride you instead. a-alright? let’s just—”

before they could have finished their sentence, tommy has already pulled a leg over his shoulder, spread their thighs for easier access. no time for compromise. coating his other fingers in more viscous liquid, it doesn’t take much to slip a single digit into waiting heat. despite the swiftness of the motion, tubbo accepts him easily and swallows another within seconds, giving no indication of discomfort — quite the opposite. they grind their hips back, bites their lip, buries their fingernails in tommy's back, all the while producing tiny, awed noises of pleasure.

“feel good?” tommy exhales before he can stop himself. both of them remember him saying these words several times during moments like these, it's familiar yet so very much more heated. tommy is claiming them and despite these casual back and forths, this is a final decision for both of them. tubbo simply nods shakily, clearly focusing on the sensation further down, and when tommy crooks his fingers, it looks like they have forgotten how to produce coherent speech anyway. they whimper noisily, hips twitching up.

tommy is merciless: he gently rubs over that bundle of nerves until he can feel tubbo's hips shaking, and then he starts pressing their dicks together once more, massaging the tips, stroking them curiously. every upstroke coaxes noises out of both of them and they interrupt their sloppy, wild kissing to just rest their foreheads together, heavy breaths mingling, lost in the stimulation. tubbo's hands cling and claw as tommy takes them apart bit by bit and if the filthy squelching sounds weren’t enough to cloud his mind, the constant stream of high moans falling from tubbo's lips certainly would be.

"ah—hhng! so-s—s'good," they sink deep into the pit of complacency, cease thinking altogether and take whatever they can get — the wet frotting aided by tommy's fist has them grinding against each other mindlessly and any ultimate goal tommy pursued by stretching tubbo with three fingers has escaped him. they would’ve remained like this for eternity or until one of them climaxed, were it not for tubbo's leg buckling under them with a muffled squeal of overstimulation, collapsing against the sheets.

“e-ahn!—enough..!” tubbo gasps and twitches away from tommy's hands to catch their breath momentarily. they look like they do after wrestling or sparring. dishevelled, sweaty, dazed, yet ecstatic. even though lust weighs down their eyelids and limbs, they manage a smile. “h—holy crap ... forgot how good th-that— ..th - ah, how good that felt.”

instinct claws and howls at the pit of tommy's gut. he listens.

"never forget then. you're _mine_ ," he rasps and can't find it in himself to regret it. he felt as if he hadn't earned the right to call them his, and yet he did apart from all good judgement. instead, he wonders what sounds the brunette would make if he ate them out instead. he never had the patience to try it and now it’s abruptly on top of his list. that and proper tying them up, something soft and silky to bind them to the headboard, maybe try edging them if he found a day where he was especially hungry to see them thrashing and wailing until he was sure their voice gave out. dear god, he hasn’t been this horny in _months_.

but tubbo is the one who makes the ultimate decision of what to do by simply pushing tommy back onto the bed and straddling him unceremoniously. their thigh muscles are smooth and yet prominent and their skin isn’t as pure anymore as it was in the beginning: a few lovebites are scattered over their neck and shoulders, their full cheeks are flushed and red splotches visible down their neck. they're less ethereal now, has become a tangible being tommy isn’t afraid to taint. and yet, he feels no urge to add scratches or harsh words or bites.

“y'know ... you're mine too,” tubbo demands and so tommy looks at them, eyes flickering just a bit wider. their eyes are an odd mixture of calm and restless, as if their impatience didn’t at all worry them since they know its origin and remedy. "plus i said i was going to ride you."

and this is where it finally hits tommy like a fucking bus.

_this_ is tubbo.

it’s tubbo and they’re in their bed together, naked, wanting, _needing_ , the same person who never demanded, never took, and eventually gave way too much. the person consistently on his mind for all too long to be natural, the person who fit into his life like a puzzle piece, just the wrong puzzle. they found a way, despite being so very much more vibrant than he was, a bright green against the deep red that he was. they were willing to cut their own edges off to _make_ themself fit, happy with the way they stood out among all the things that made tommy undesirable in his entirety.

they're a person who consciously made the decision to sleep with tommy, time and time again.

they're the one person who wants him more than he knows _how_ to want someone. holy shit, they're in _love_.

his cockhead breaches tubbo the moment tommy understands what this complex, wild, marvellous person on top of him means to him and all thought explodes into marrow—deep desire. tubbo is unbearably hot, their walls welcoming tommy by clenching down between movements and alright, his epiphany can wait a bit.

tubbo's eyelashes are fluttering as they take all of tommy inside in one go, like they have been preparing for this their entire life; they frame tommy's legs with their own, curls their fingers into fists against his chest like they belong, sits down like they're there to stay, and fuck it, no, this enlightenment can’t wait because tommy's heart feels like it’ll burst any second now. he pulls them down and kisses them to silence the words almost escaping from his lips, words he doesn’t even know are true – they might be right now, here in the middle of an incorporeal night, but what might be left the next morning, he doesn’t know.

“I didn't think you wanted me,” he pants against wet lips instead, a faded shadow of what he means to say and still it elicits a hum of agreement.

“I wa-w ... want you so much m—ah! more than you know,” comes the reply and it’s missing the terrified, helpless undertone it would’ve had years ago. _i felt terrible after i pushed you away_ , would be the implication, and now it’s nothing but _i’m so happy to be with you_. whatever it is that happened to them in these years of peace, it couldn’t have been better. they exchange saliva for a few minutes longer while affectionate touches are the only sensation they crave, but when tommy's dick throbs in protest, tubbo sits back up shakily with a tiny, determined smile. "watch this," they seem to say.

and tommy realises in alarm that he is _not_ ready.

because tubbo rides him like this was the last thing they would do on earth.

they slide their hips back, clenching their hole around the tip without lifting their body, only arching their back and god, tommy can see the flexible curve of their spine before they sink back down, rolling their hips forward with a shaking moan.

"gh-nngh! w-wanted to ... wanted this f-for so long—"

parts of it are slow, deliberate rolls of their hips allow for tommy's cock to scrape all the right places, rubbing against sensitive inner walls. tubbo works their thighs as if they alone were a work of art, creates waves and rolling motions in their body to clench around tommy in return – and if this is how fucking gorgeous they can look when given free rein, why in the world did tommy ever bother pinning them down? they're divine, sits forward and grants a terribly intimate view of their hole hungrily eating up tommy's shaft again and again, then switches to a slow, deep grind they complement with filthy kisses passed between desperate moans and the entire time they're so goddamn _tight_ it’s making tommy go insane.

"ever si-sih—since i rode your fingers and-and— you said you would split me in ha-haLF!" they gasp, hips rolling forward as they sink down on tommy, eyes betraying them as they flutter, nearly rolling back into their skull. in between all that, they keep changing to a brutal pace, slamming their hips down and, judging by the pitiful whimpering, maltreats their own sweet spot with the perfect angle as they fuck them both further towards the edge. they allow no interference, this is _their_ show, and they let tommy feel it by slamming down hard as soon as he attempts to thrust up, effectively pinning tommy back to the sheets with a shaky keen. the entire time, they seem to register his captivated expression and increases the tempo, notices underlying impatience and becomes a ruthless tease.

tommy wants nothing more than to meet the movements yet is forced to hold back – as revenge, he does his best to catch tubbo off-guard by whispering a throaty, "fuck, tubbo, you feel so good. wanna fuck you 'til you're _crying_ ," as they nodded frantically, already on the verge of that fantasy. he praised them with soft murmurs of encouragement that never fail to make them shake and twitch, doing that thing to the back of their ear which always makes them go wild. it works, too, that’s the whole problem, they continue riling each other up, pushing each other further until tubbo is a shuddering mess on top of him and tommy can’t see straight anymore from trying so hard to control himself. tubbo's entrance is clenching around him and tommy wants so bad to just let go and bury deep and paint them white on the inside, but he hasn’t been granted permission yet and so he suffers and whines and digs his heels into the mattress.

mostly powerless to change his current situation, tommy resorts to the only hope left and wraps a hand around tubbo's weeping cock which had been bouncing along happily with their motions, inviting in its prettiness and leaving a wet puddle on tommy's belly. pulling all the stops is the only path which doesn’t end in embarrassment over coming too soon, and so tommy leads with fast strokes, pausing to thumb that favourite spot of theirs under the sensitive head, the one never failing to make tubbo spasm. they twitch in his lap, clawing at his skin with a whimper.

“HAHh! wh—want this to be—mmh!- over?” the brunette gasps and hangs their head and mewls on a particularly vicious downstroke, almost curling in on themself, fighting the urge to collapse against him. they brace their palms on tommy's chest, digging blunt nails into old scars that dot his pale skin. “ngh! or we could-ah— we could k-keep going someway else, if y—mmh! you like ...”

"no, fuck- you're perfect like this—" tommy pants and tubbo feels their thighs tremble with exertion, face twisted with longing as they find the courage to glance up, meeting his eyes through the thick hair matted to their forehead with sweat. they don't move, too taken by tommy's heated gaze and he groans in complaint, giving a push upward with his hips, burying just a bit deeper into them and eliciting a gasp from the brunette.

" _please_ , tubbo," tommy whines and that does tubbo in. their fingers curl, digging into his skin as they pick up their pace, thighs burning with exertion. they're aching in a positively overwhelming way, every muscle from their waist down is screaming it's complaint but tubbo powers through, grinds back helplessly and picks up their pace as if they could have gone any faster without collapsing. the calloused palms gripping onto their thighs tighten, the cock buried inside them twitches, and they're moaning out a broken, trembling rendition of tommy's name.

"i can't— i-" tubbo cries, sobbing loudly when they feel tommy's grip drift to their hips, tangibly fighting the urge to drag them down to meet his thrusts, fingers twitching against their scorching skin.

they keen, trembling as they fight the urge to stop, to drag themself off his cock and have just a moment to collect themself, instead slamming down time and time again as they wail, sucking in quick, desperate breaths, sweat dotting their skin.

"please," tommy growls, whimpers, his throaty, airy noise rumbling from within his chest. he sounds so small and yet at the same time tubbo swears it sends them closer to the edge. they sputter out a, "yes yes— yes, fuck! f-fu—fuck me—" and suddenly they're being dragged down to meet his thrusts, the slap of skin on skin increasing and their back creating a beautiful, long arch as they let out a shrill sob as their only warning.

the world stops for ten seconds as they come.

it’s simultaneous, they throw their head back as they twitch, silenced by pleasure for a moment, emptying themself onto tommy's bare stomach with one quiet squeak that turns into wonton moans that fall from their tongue as if they had been holding them back in the first place, their limbs locked for the entire duration as the blonde fills them up. tommy wouldn’t have it any other way. after such a long build-up, it’s an overwhelming relief to finally feel his abs tensing up almost painfully, his cock throbbing while buried to the hilt, his heart skipping a beat. while he massages tubbo through their orgasm, tommy's own nearly blinds him with its unexpected intensity – especially strong due to the shared nature of it, knowing tubbo is going through exactly the same elation right now, being able to watch the relief on their face as they clench down rhythmically, prolonging both their climaxes. until tubbo is stilled, the only movements being the twitch to their thighs or the spasm of their abdomen, the two sink into the lull of their afterglow.

when fatigue begins setting in, tubbo collapses on him like they've done several times before, panting heaving against his chest, though this time they're borderline wheezing.

"holy shit," they whisper.

"holy shit," tommy agrees.

"gonna ... gonna have to rain check on th—on the - the stronghold ..." tubbo whispered, not daring to move. tommy didn't either, still buried to the hilt in the brunette who toyed the line of unconsciousness as they croaked their words weakly into his chest.

"oh, don't worry. i'll tell them," tommy cooly stated as he traced his fingers along their flank. warm palms, featherlight touches, all culminated in love and the slim amount of affection tommy could figure out how to show. his breaths were warm atop their head as he took a deep inhale, face buried into wild brunette locks.

"don't you dare," tubbo slurred, too far gone to sound even remotely intimidating. he smiles into their hair, nuzzling his cheek into them as his eyes fluttered closed and he blindly pawed at a blanket until he caught one, dragging the comforter around both of them.

"i dare, tubbo. i dare," he whispered as he stilled, tangling their legs and wrapped his arms around their waist, wriggling against their warm until he was comfortable.

god, he's so lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> eheh o_o; i said i wanted to write shorter stuff. oops! and plz request some ideas for me, i like these very much


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